The Toy Chest
by AlreadyPainfullyGone
Summary: Castiel is a slinky, he's also falling. Crack/Humour/Angst/Gabriel is a barrel of monkeys. Destiel


_I have no idea, but toy story three was excellent...and I read a fic about 'slinky castiel' meaning sexy – and this is where my mind went._

Castiel feels himself fall a little more. Falling slowly, stage by stage, so he barely notices until he feels himself drop just a bit further.

For a simple slinky he has some serious issues. Or at least Dean seems to think so.

Dean knows a lot about emotional trauma, mainly because of his brother, a cloth doll named Sam who, when tilted one way is a happy figure with long brown hair made of yarn. Flip the doll over (and what heartless person would do so?) and a fold of cloth covers the happy face and in doing so reveals something Dean calls 'Emo Sam'.

Soon Castiel will drop down the last of the tiny Lego stairs into the toy chest proper, and then he'll be living with them. He honestly doesn't know how he feels about this.

The angel marionettes hanging from the lid of the chest don't have much to say about the things that live at the bottom of the box itself, and Castiel has known for some time that he is not like them. He's a slinky, and made to travel between the lid and the floor, in one direction only. He was made to fall.

The only other toy he knows for sure originated from the higher place is Gabriel. He knows Gabriel is down there somewhere because occasionally he can hear Sam shouting that Gabriel's monkeys are loose again, overlaid with the chattering of the tiny plastic creatures themselves while Dean hunts for Gabriel. Eventually he'll drag the little brown barrel out of its hiding place and demand that he 'control his damn monkeys or so help him...'

Dean can be quite imposing when he wants to be, though Castiel has only ever heard his voice from the depths of the chest. From Dean he hears about Jo, a Barbie stolen from their owners sister and dressed in clothes appropriated from generations of Action Men. Bobby, a prickly old bear with missing legs and tiny brass spectacles sewn to his nose, giving him a pedagogical look. Ellen, a Raggedy Anne inherited from a cousin, and John Winchester, Dean's father – a GI Jo in command of a troop of tiny army soldiers, hunting the plastic dinosaurs and glow in the dark monsters across the dusty base of the chest.

"Which I guess is what I'm going to do." Dean mutters from his place, just out of sight beside the Lego steps that Castiel is slipping down day by day.

"Well, at least he loves you...you were always the favourite." Comes a plaintive voice. There's a scuffling of fabric as Dean covers Emo Sam and flips the doll the right way up. "Hey Dean! What's up?" comes a cheerful cry.

"Nothing much Sammy, just talking to Cas."

"Hey Cas!"

"Hello Sam."

The marionettes mutter to themselves disapprovingly.

"Shut it!" Bobby growls from his corner. Rufus the hedgehog curls himself into a ball, felt nose buried in his belly. Bobby's wife, a Kmart doll in an apron whose long blond hair smells sweetly of pie, shushes him and scratches the scant plush of his worn stomach.

Castiel drops a little further as he relaxes, then yelps.

"Hey Cas, it's alright." Dean whispers from his place in the shadows. "Couple more months and you'll be down here with us. We'll have fun."

Castiel considers this.

"Why can't you come up here?"

"No feet dumbass." Dean grumbles. "I'm waiting for you."

Castiel thinks about the marionettes, who no one wants to play with. He thinks about the happy voices, the fun he hears coming from the bottom of the chest. His own lonely place in the middle.

He relaxes himself and falls in a dizzying rush of silver coils, tipping over and over and over.

"Hey! Awesome." Something nudges him where he lies on the bottom of the chest, on his side. "You're shinier than I thought you were." Something moves through his coils, through the circle of empty space that Castiel contains. He shivers.

A tiny black car loops around him, having trundled through him curiously. Its plastic wipers wave appreciatively.

"You finally made it." Dean says, wheels skittering backwards and forwards. "Great, you have to meet Sam, he's awesome when he's the right way up." As Dean nudges Castiel in the direction of his brother the slinky feels happy for the first time in a long time. He can't hear the marionettes anymore.

"Gabriel, get your monkeys off my brother!" Dean thunders, trying to locate Sam under the pile of possessive primates.

"Never!" the barrel's muffled voice comes from somewhere underneath the layers of Sam's coat, the skirt of which hides his saddened features. Sam's happy face beams out of the mess of plastic monkeys. He giggles.

"Wait till Dad hears about this." Dean warns, then tips Castiel on his side again so he can drive inside, tiny radio playing a music box version of Back in Black.

Castiel feels the dust settle around them, smiling to himself.


End file.
